That was a for Ed Dukas. He left Barbara at her house, which was now guarded. But he did not home easily. For that was the trouble general. John Jones of old-time and blood, and George Smith of all their and let their come to the surface:
"So now you up like yourselves, to attack us. I wouldn't be like you if it was the last way to be alive."
"Oh, no, brother? Those must be yours. What makes you so good? Born with your own hide, eh? The elite. With jelly for insides, and a nature."
Talk to fists. But who an with a fist? Before their a mush. Still, there were weapons. Then, by progression, that were not so primitive.
Ed didn't try any more to the trouble. He it, walked around it and away from it. The wise and that he had been to in to have his kind. The were only a fancy, in the of local emotion. Feeling beaten, Ed got home.
This was the when he told himself that anything at any moment—that might not come. On the newscast, he the report that the star ship—to be at Proxima Centauri or Sirius—was of out there on its asteroid. There were to this of his. And depths.
This was the when, that the spoken word no longer be through the of hatreds, Ed Dukas to letters.
He meant to with a to Les and then to his father, had toward simplicities. He wanted to to Granger, again for calm. But he had only a paragraphs to Les when that kid of his appeared on a blank of his paper. From nowhere:
"Nipper."
Only Mitchell Prell, from for ten years, had called him that. His uncle. A little man, by accusations, but part of the once of the future. Mitchell Prell had to the and of science—and its stumbling. The had come as a of the to the stars. And the human-and-android had resulted from the of the of life. Wonder horror. White black. Till you what to in, that, being alive, you had to go on trying to make right.
For an hour Ed Dukas sat in his room. Nothing more appeared on the paper which he had under his microscope. "Nipper." That was all. Silly name of his childhood. Often he looked around him, as though someone to appear. Several times he said softly, "Uncle Mitch, you must be here, someplace...."
There was no answer.
The in the streets—the shouts, the occasional of feet, the and yells—masked the of Tom Granger. Ed was from his to Granger almost at his elbow. With him was a man who looked like a plain-clothes police official. In the background, and frightened, was Ed's mother.
"Eddie," she said. "If you know anything, tell. Mitch just isn't any more trouble to us."
"Tell what?" Ed demanded, rising.
"About where Mitchell Prell is," Granger told him. "You said which that he might be around."
Ed's tightened. It was still a minor to that the had been used on this house for years. The of the could, if focused, make pictures of walls. But Ed didn't think that it make the small print on a of paper readable. But there were that up from miles away—a voice, for instance—and them to audibility. Ed was still sure that, over distance, his mind itself inviolable.
Ed by the that always take over is by fear. Once his uncle had been a to for disaster. Then, memories and years had him. But now, trouble, he was again. And according to of so were his relatives.
The of his uncle left Ed and was replaced by loyalty. He all his self-control and carefully. He if the in Granger's large at last of the angry hands, gone untrustworthy, that now touched the of modern science. Was he so late? Or was he of something simpler?
Ed a laugh. "You up my muttering, Granger," he accused. "I wonder what you about, these days? Grant me the same of under which you do a to relieve, everywhere, as I have been you to see. No, I don't know where Mitchell Prell is, though I wish I did."
The plain-clothes man had moved over to the table. Now he into the microscope. Soon he to Granger to do likewise. Ed the of his puckering.
"What 'Nipper' to you, Dukas?" Granger asked at last, levelly.
"Suppose it's my name for you, Granger?" Ed answered. "Your friend can take the paper along. The police might make something else of it. Maybe I with a pen and absent-mindedly the under a microscope—and right away somebody wants to make a of it. You want to me? I've that of from the police before. This time, for cussedness, I'll on my and that they a order they with my most private possession, my memory. Especially since and to have taken over. But wait, Granger. I'm sure that people are still in the majority. They haven't very much, yet. But they will—with as as they are now. Maybe they haven't any to our problems, and the of something out. But that's a lot. We were to thinking, Granger, and that means something, though you and of others can their wits. Maybe the people will you up!"
"We'll take the paper along all right," the plain-clothes man said. "And you, too. We already have the order you mention."
"Dukas," Granger said with a of great patience, "will you realize? We're a horror. We must be if need be. But you should be to give your co-operation. It's your duty. We have always that Prell is alive, somewhere. Twice he has been part of disaster, if unintentionally. We must stop him he can us greater, unknown dangers."
Ed this thin, man who had managed to assume a power in the world. And again Ed had trouble him. Perhaps he was insincere. Yet he had, too, the marks of the that needed revision; them blindly, with a of and the stupidity.
"Tell me something, Granger," Ed said. "I'm curious. And I know I have a duty, different from what you mean. Did you have a hand in the of the of vitaplasm? I the monsters, not just the androids, the Phonies. The use of terror is old in and politics. Stirring up fury, with the elsewhere."
Granger's stiffened, as if he had been insulted, or he was just acting. "I would not dirty my hands with from hell, Dukas!" he snapped. "Unwise as you are, you must know that! Now I think the police want to take you away."
Ed's mother in the of his room without saying a word. She looked strong, yet and scared. He that her was with him, though her views from his.
His father must have been out of the house when Granger and the other man arrived, Ed thought. Did his going out on this anything special? Wanting to be loyal, and at least sure that the wish was returned, Ed didn't to complete the thought.
He was about his mother, yet he said, "Try not to worry, Mom. Go to bed. They'll have to the house. I can still on it. And I don't think I can be very long, now."
"Your father will come to you as soon as he knows, Eddie," she said.
So Edward Dukas was off to the local bastille. A was put on his head. But what was learned from him about the of Mitchell Prell must have been and disappointing. Certainly, though, it must have the police, as did that single name on the paper, which told them nothing under the most scrutiny.
Bronson, the local police chief, Ed to a man named Carter Loman, a with a mouth like a trap, a to match, and a scrutiny. A big wheel of some sort, Ed assumed. Was there something familiar about him?
"You'll have to the night here, Dukas," Loman rumbled.
Ed put out the light in his cell, but as he into his cot, he a of paper from his pocket in one hand. He left his pen open, on top of his clothes. For maybe an hour he in the dark, to the of the night. Then he slept.
He as the east and at once at the paper in his hand, which he had the blanket. Ed's leaped. A message had been written. Perhaps it had taken all night to it out at a pace: "Nipper—argue police—you go Port Smitty—Mars—at once."
The final e of once was already written, that a line of it was still being extended. A little of wet was still across the paper.
Ed had no or pocket lens, but he on the light. He hard. He was not at all sure that he saw anything special. But in the dark liquid he for an that he a of form—impossible or fantastic. Then the of quivered, and the hint was gone.
Ed whispered, so low that he himself not hear, "Uncle Mitch. I know that you're around—in some form. I wish I what you're up to."
Ed the message from the of paper, it to a pulp, and it on the floor. At least he was that might attention than his memories. Of they would him again—that was why they had him, that he would learn more. But he had learned very little.
The was done. Chief Bronson and Carter Loman all that he knew. Now Ed offered his proposition: "Suppose I got to Mars, as Mitchell Prell suggests? I to be the only man to him. You are aware that I myself haven't more than a wild of where the leads. But you know that I'm about what a human-and-android can mean, and that I want to the somehow. If you want to Prell, me by the best means that you know."
Chief Bronson nodded, musingly.
"Hmm-m—very good!" Carter Loman grunted. "Of you would to act alone, Dukas, you are of Prell. You offer to with us only it is the only way that you can do what you want to do at all. All right, we agree."
"Tickets and will be for immediately," Bronson said. "And now there is someone here to see you."
It was Ed's father, angry with him but more angry with the under which his son had been put.
"Damn it, Eddie, I to to you last night, and they sent me away!" he stormed. "And what have you been up to? What's this nonsense about a message from Prell? Damn, has gone crazy? I was for this man Granger and his return to simplicities; but he's gone wild, too! Isn't there any way to what's happening? Phonies, and from a witch's caldron, but to elephant size. And more of them all the time! Where it stop?... Well, it helps a little that of people out last night up fights. Even some Phonies did that, they say; but should we it? Scientists were on the everywhere, as maybe they should be for so much new trouble. The Schaeffer is barricaded. I'm for your people, Ed, but can they the peace for more than a little while? And would it do any final good if they could?"
Jack Dukas, the "memory man" of old-time flesh, was more like a to Ed again, and Ed was almost as for that as he was for the of the of and order.
"Thanks, Dad," Ed said with a meaning of his own. "It's a small of danger, anyway. It's a fact, though, that the situation, at the moment, is an magazine which one well-placed set off. And it's hard to see how there be less than many. Say that our population is three ways. Android, and that mixed group which is trying to keep them from each other's throats. It's hard to see how the can succeed for very long."
For a moment Ed and Jack Dukas were almost close, in of differences. Ed was a little reassured.
"I'm going out to Mars, Dad," he said. "With police co-operation. Maybe to my uncle. And—who knows?—maybe to some useful answers."
Jack Dukas shrugged. "More science, no doubt," he said. "Well, anyway, good luck."
The spell of was broken.
For a moment Ed was with the of time possibly wasted, off to the Red Planet, when he should be trying to the of to a new biology—in vitaplasm. He that time still short, with up. But a choice had been made, and he that it was the best one.
Ed and Barbara to see Les Payten that morning. He in a bed, his in an of plastic, under which circulated. He had to and speak. Ed his intentions. About them, Les a mixture of a man's and weariness: "I we'll see each other again, Ed. And that the world will still be around. And that you won't be too much—strong, weak, big or little. Because I've got out for me at last, Ed. Granger is right, as as I am concerned. I was a kid, but now I've had enough! The are still out of than we realize. Got to the Phonies and all of the menace, no what. Because there was a like it—not to me." Les wanly. "So long, pals."
In a park, some hours later, Barbara and Ed walked in the dusk, while the of that had been Luna a of the stars. Something with long was visible in against it for an instant—another that before. It added a to their low mood. Ed was that he must say goodbye to Barbara, too, very soon, and to all the wonder and that was Earth. Earth maybe in its last days.
Barbara said, "I wish I were going along, Eddie."
"So do I. Babs, go out to the asteroids. Like my mother. It's there."
"I meant my wish, Ed," Barbara earnestly. "Of course, a girl is still sometimes as a that a man has to take pains to look after—no for one to on the ahead. Maybe it's true."
He looked at her and hard. But little to in his head. "Maybe a of things," he commented. "But I think you, as much as anybody, know what we're up against. Possible death, of course, which be permanent. Or some or of identity. How can we just what? If you can take all that and hardship, too—well, I won't say no. Maybe if you were Mrs. Ed Dukas we have Bronson provide your to Mars."
Her came out, like the sun. "You're matter-of-fact and unromantic, Ed," she told him.
He her into the of a tree. A of minutes later, when he her, they looked dazed—as though, as life was, it still be heaven. She was beautiful. He'd anyone so beautiful.
Fifteen hours later they were the Moon Dust.
